"Have you ever been in an air-jet before, Raych?" asked Hari Seldon.
Raych shook his head speechlessly. He was looking down at Upperside rushing beneath them with a mixture of fright and awe¹.
It struck Seldon again how much Trantor was a world of Expressways and tunnels. Even long trips were made underground by the general population. Air travel, however common it might be on the Outworlds, was a luxury on Trantor and an air-jet like this-- How had Hummin managed it? Seldon wondered.
He looked out the window at the rise and fall of the domes², at the general green in this area of the planet, the occasional patches of what were little less than jungles, the arms of the sea they occasionally passed over, with its leaden waters taking on a sudden all-too-brief sparkle when the sun peeped out momentarily from the heavy cloud layer.
An hour or so into the flight, Dors, who was viewing a new historical novel without much in the way of apparent enjoyment³, clicked it off and said, "I wish I knew where weeeere going."
"If you cant⁴ tell," said Seldon, "then I certainly cant. Youve been on Trantor longer than I have."
"Yes, but only on the inside," said Dors. "Out here, with only Upperside below me, Im as lost as an unborn infant would be."
"Oh well.--Presumably, Hummin knows what hes doing."
"Im sure he does," replied Dors rather tartly⁵, "but that may have nothing to do with the present situation. Why do you continue to assume any of this represents his initiative?"
Seldons eyebrows⁶ lifted. "Now that you ask, I dont know. I just assumed it. Why shouldnt this be his?"
"Because whoever arranged it didnt specify⁷ that I be taken along with you. I simply dont see Hummin forgetting my existence. And because he didnt come himself, as he did at Streeling and at Mycogen."
"You cant always expect him to, Dors. He might well be occupied. The astonishing thing is not that he didnt come on this occasion but that he did come on the previous ones."

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